


Murder case as foreplay

by Renmiriffx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Detective AU, Flirting, Frenemies, Ian has a stick up his butt, Ian's a detective, Jealous!Mickey, Kinda, M/M, Mickey's a P.I, Mickey's a lovable douche, Mickey's flirty and loose, Out and Proud, Sexual Tension, Slow burn - ish?, Teasing, Violence, but bit grumpy, but other stuff yes, cos u know I don't do that, film-noir style murdercase, heavy on dialog, humor?, lil bit immature i think, murder case, oh just to be clear there isn't going to be explicit smut, ooh plot twists, slight angst, so no homophobia, there is gonna be a shitload of references to pop-culture and stuff, well not gay parade proud but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiriffx/pseuds/Renmiriffx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is a detective's worst nightmare? A private investigator.<br/>Ian Gallagher hadn't got particularly lucky with a murder case, safe to say it was a career killer, but after running into his mortal enemy code name the Raven aka Mickey Milkovich, a bet was made, who'd solve the murder fastest.<br/>(I still suck at summaries, ps. sorry for the title)</p><p>Or:<br/>There's this dude who kinda likes this other dude, and they wanna have sexysexy times, but the dude's so stubborn. So they kinda like dance u know? Flirt and shit? Then there's like jealous stuff and picnics or something. And uuuh, there's a murder and the dudes are solving it. (what I answered when I was asked what I was writing abt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hellou my fellow Gallavich fiends. Let's all let season six be, and focus on the happy days, okay? <3 So jump in the wagon with me, let's ignore all! YEI<3
> 
> So this has probably been done before, but I don't care. LOL  
> This ain't exactly what I had in mind, it was supposed to be full blown film-noir, a good-old fashioned murder mystery, but somehow it shaped into this.  
> So not my native language and all, so typos and grammar errors ahead, IMMA SO SORRY  
> Leave me some love cuties ~<3~  
> I don't bite, not hard anyways ;)

 

 

 

Out of all the days, this was the day Ian forgot his umbrella. He cursed under his breath and shoved his hands into his pocket, fucking hell. Normally Ian was on-point and punctual. But this might be the day he’d be late from work for the first time in his career.

If Ian was a religious man, he’d say the angels were weeping for mankind so dearly that they’d drown the world. But he ain’t no man of god, and it was merely pissing down rain, hard and rough. Raindrops size of one’s fingertip. Fucking great. Could the morning be any worse? Just as the thought crossed Ian’s mind, he noticed a large pool of filthy water gathered side the gutter and vehicle approaching it at high speed. Result was inevitable, and with that Ian was covered in cold water and dirt when the vehicle splashed it on him. Fucking fuck.

All wet and cold Ian finally got to the 4th precinct of Chicago police department, itching for a cigarette since the rain had made it impossible to smoke while walking. And as always he was greeted with a bright smile and peeping high voice:

“Morning detective Gallagher!” Janet the stations receptionist said. Smile blasted on her teeny-weeny face.

“Morning.” Ian grunted in response.

How Janet hadn’t gotten the memo of his sexual orientation, escaped Ian’s mind. She wasn’t even being subtle about it, every Friday she’d ask him over a drink. And every time Ian politely declined it was like adding fuel to the fire, it only seemed to make her more dedicated. Or maybe she was simply one of those girls who thought that they could turn gay people straight with the power of pussy. Anyway she was repulsive and annoying beyond means.

Ian opened the door to where all the detective’s worked, his eyes fixed on the floor. He waved mornings to his co-workers and made his way to his desk.

“Psst.” Kev, his partner said lowly.

Another thing Ian found interesting, was how on earth, had Kevin Ball made a detective. He had his bright moments, but mainly his life seemed to revolve around his twin girls. Normally with Ian being in the same room as him, he would have showed his daily picture of his girls. Every single day, he’d show a new one he’d taken in the morning. It wasn’t that Ian didn’t like children, heck he had three younger siblings, but it was the way Kev did it. Like his kids were the best kids and others were less worthy. But guess that’s how every parent feels.

Ian sighed, turning to face his partner.

“What is it detective Ball?” Ian asked.

“Holy shit dude, you’re soaking wet! That’s what you get when you walk to work.” Kev laughed.

“You know very well that I live three blocks away, it would be a criminal against the climate for me to drive to work.” Ian simply said, a bit annoyed since this must have been the 100th time he’d explained this to Kev.

“My man, you’re 27, how did you manage to get the stick so far up your ass so young?”

“Shitty morning.” Ian responded with a shrug. He wasn’t normally this grumpy.

“About that… Raven is here.” Kev whispered. “He’s at your desk.”

This was officially the worst day ever… In the history of shitty days.

“Freaking great.” Ian sighed.

Ian wasn’t greeted with a warm welcoming smile, but with the smuggest smile he’s ever seen.

“Ian my darling.” Ian, that was unusual of the Raven, he normally called Ian by his last name. Either he’s being more of an ass than usual or he wants something really important.

The creature over his desk was the Raven aka Mickey Milkovich. He was wearing his usual ragged jeans and a shirt that probably hasn’t been ever ironed and a tie so loose around his neck that it looked stupid. If you’ve seen college girls doing the walk of shame at 6:30 A.M, with messy hair and wriggled clothes. Well Mickey looked the male version of it, minus the gayliner.

Raven was sitting comfortably in Ian’s chair, his legs dropped on the desk, drinking coffee.

“Mr. Milkovich, what do I owe the pleasure?” Ian said tautly.

“Came to ask you out.” Mickey teased with a grin on his face, but when he saw Ian’s jaw drop a little, he added: “Kidding, lil red riding hood, like I would go out with someone like you, you’re too boring for my taste. It’s a work call dumbshit.”

“Like I’d date a former criminal.” Ian sneered. “Shouldn’t you be at a bar drinking your life away and brooding over a lost love, isn’t that something a p.i does?” Ian shot back, burn bitch burn.

Why Mickey was called the Raven was because of his profession as a private investigator. What private eyes do is steal cases from real police officers or take the credit for their work. They play dirty and bend the rules. Also Mickey’s hair was black as Raven. Vulture would have been a better world to describe him, but the bodily size of Mickey screamed petite, well if guys can be called that. Not that his body built was puny, because he did have some muscle under that raggedy shirt.  

“This ain’t no Chinatown, even though I am ruggedly handsome as Jack Nicholson.” Mickey said and momentarily posed a blue steel, and cracked a chuckle. “Oh I forgot, I got you a cup of coffee, I know the coffee here is shit.” Mickey handed Ian a to-go-cup of coffee.

Ian rolled his eyes, shooing Mickey’s feet off his desk. If Mickey got him above all people, coffee, his business must be important. Ian took the offered coffee, but just because he didn’t have time to grab one at home. He didn’t accept it as a bribe Mickey had clearly intended it.

“What you really want Mickey?” Ian bluntly asked, sipping his coffee, and damn it was good coffee.

“Wanna peek of the Lisa Lambry casefiles.” Mickey said and Ian almost choked on his coffee.

“You what?”

“Just a teensy peek, please?” Mickey pouted his lips and batted his eyelids.

The damn Lisa Lambry case… It was one of the hardest Ian’s had ever worked on. The holy trinity: means, motive and opportunity, lacked all but motive. The only one with plausible motive was the victim’s husband. Pretty standard, rich wife, poor husband. So motive being the second oldest of them all: money.

Otherwise a total bust. No prints, no fibers, no witnesses, no old grudges or jealous lovers. Fucking zero, nada, big fat nothing.

“No fucking way Raven.” Ian said sharply.

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“My job ain’t worth no while.”

“Fuck you raggedy Anne, okay just the crime scene pics?” Mickey begged.

“No.” Ian said firmly.

“One pic?”

“No.” Ian shook his head. “Fuck’s it to you anyway?”

“Got a client duh.”

“Who would wanna hire your smelly ass.” Ian mocked.

“Outch Gallagher. If I’d have feelings, they’d be hurt now.” Mickey laughed. He lowered his gaze and licked his lips. “Although, it should interest you quite a bit.”

“And why is that?” Ian huffed back.

“Cos my client is Marcus Lambry.” Mickey said with a shit-eating grin.

“The husband?” Ian’s jaw dropped.

“The one and only, he said you guys weren’t working fast enough, cos you know his wife deserves justice and all.” Mickey scoffed with a sarcastic tone.

“He fucking did it anyway.” Ian said with sneer.

“Prove it.” Mickey added fuel to the flames.

“I will.” Ian said, and slammed his hands on the desk.

“100 bucks says I solve it first.” Mickey smirked.

Ian fumed of rage as he leaned closer to Mickey who had also gotten up. They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Fine.” Ian half yelled.

“Fine.” Mickey smiled.

Kev had been miraculously quiet the whole time. He was probably too busy daydreaming about his girls, but now he finally spoke.

“You know guys… You should just get it over with.”

“What?” The ginger one and also the raven one turned to look at Kevin.

“The banging, get the frustration over with and move on.”

“Nobody fucking asked you shit.” Mickey almost bit Kev’s head off.

“Just because, we are both gay, doesn’t mean we are attracted to each other.” Ian simply said.

And Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Blind as a bat.” He muttered to himself.

Mickey growled to Kev and turned to Ian.

“Well this was fun, Ronald Mcdonald, but gotta dash.” Mickey said, and waltz towards the exit. “I’ll be seeing you around Gallagher.” He said utterly husky and blew Ian a kiss.

“See?” Kevin said.

“Shut up Kev.”


	2. Case study

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue how detectives really work or does any of the stuff actually make sense in crime field, but let's let that slide. So there might be some plot holes in the future cos lack of knowledge on my part, but do try to enjoy! + I'll proofread this later, too lazy now, sorry.

Ian stared at the crime scene pictures, looking for something he had missed. It was a messy murder, Lisa Lambry had been bludgeoned to death in her own home with something that the coroner couldn’t identify with certainly. Her husband had found her just after midnight when he returned home.

Shatter pattern on the victim’s skull indicated an object a size of a baseball bat, but made of bronze. And in or near the crime scene hadn’t been found anything that even remotely matched.

Rest of the autopsy report was pretty much useless. There was no DNA under the fingernails, no alcohol or drugs in her system. Nothing that could point out to her killer. Only thing that didn’t really make any sense was that the victim had participated in heavy exercise recently before her death, because her skin had been sticky with sweat. Since she wasn’t wearing anything, but a morning gown and underwear the logical assumption about the ‘exercise’ was sex, but rape-kit had came up empty for semen or traces of latex being used.

CSU had swept the whole crime scene, the Lambry household, and came up empty with no unidentified prints, all found prints belonged either to the family or friends. Either the killer was a pro or someone close to the victim. And no known hitmen used that M.O in the Chicago area, only confirming the cut feeling Ian already had, indicating that the husband was the killer. It’s always the husband or the butler, Ian sneered at his own stupid joke. He quickly dismissed the thought, this wasn’t a joking mater or a mystery novel.

And since they had no murder weapon, no prints and only one with plausible motive, the husband, Marcus Lambry, had an air tight alibi. He had been down at the gym from 9 P.M to 11 P.M and then gone home to find his wife dead. And the coroner said that the victim had roughly died around 10 P.M. So they had nothing against him, so they couldn’t arrest him, well they could, but what use it would do. They’d have only 48 hours to hold him and he’d lawyer up. And then Ian would be totally fucked. He needed solid evidence before he was going to do anything. Ian was so close to getting promoted as sergeant and he wasn’t going to let this case blow it.

“Lisa fucking Lambry, fuck shit, that’s disrespectful towards the victim.” Ian muttered and proceeded to bang his head against his desk, making one of the crime scene pics get clued on his forehead.

“Ian my man, take a break. The pictures ain’t going anywhere, but you are going cuckoo if you don’t stop for a while. Have a smoke or something.” Kev said.

“Huh?” Ian said, lifting his head, picture still sticking on it.

He rip the photo off and stared at it mesmerized. His eyes were wide as plates when he realized something. How the fuck could he have missed that? A Golf club.

 

* * *

 

Ian reached to the Lambry house, just to ask few questions to confirm his hunch. He pulled in the driveway and knocked on the door, and he was pleased when no other than Marcus Lambry answered.

“Detective Gallagher.” He greeted. “What do I own the pleasure, has there been any new developments in the case?” He asked.

“Might I come in for a bit, I just have a few follow up questions?”

“Please do, anything to help the case.” Marcus sneered and let Ian in.

“Right this way.” Ian was let to the kitchen area and he sat by the table.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you.” Ian shook his head. “About the case…” Ian started saying, but his voice faded away like it was stuck on his throat when he saw Mickey fucking Milkovich approaching him.

“Fancy meeting you here Gallagher.” Mickey smiled his utterly annoying smile.

“Mr. Milkovich.” Ian grinded his teeth. “Could ask you the same question.”

Mickey moved even closer to him, tracing his finger along Ian’s shoulder blades as he walked past him, making a shiver pulse run through Ian’s body.

“Well..” Mickey said, flipping the mint he was sucking on his tongue. “He’s my client after all.” He smirked.

This reminted Ian too much of their first meeting 8 months ago.

 

* * *

 

_Ian had been working on a B &E. He was on his way to crime scene/victims house to ask follow up questions._

_“Come in detective, you remember my mother Eva?” The victim, Tom Bergins asked pointing to an elderly lady next to him._

_“Madam.” Ian greeted the lady. “I need to ask your son few questions.”_

_“Of course young man, come in, come in.”_

_Ian stepped inside the house, getting his notepad open._

_“So mr. Bergins, you said you were out during the robbery?”_

_“Didn’t we go over this already?” Tom asked brow furrowed._

_“Just following protocol.” Ian flashed him a weak smile._

_“See, I told you we did correct hiring him.” Tom’s mom practically beamed._

_“Hire who?” Ian asked confused._

_“A P.I” And Ian’s mouth hang slightly ajar. Can’t people just let police to their work? A P.I is something you hire when you think your spouse is cheating or something, or in situations where the police can’t help you. And this was neither of those. Fucking people, Ian thought and subtly rolled his eyes._

_“Is not that we don’t trust you guys, but my mother insisted.” Tom peeped, voice all mousy._

_Before Ian could ask anything else the doorbell rang._

_“Oh, that must be him!” Eva cheerfully said and opened the door._

_“Evening mrs. Bergins.” A polite low voice said._

_“Oh, it’s miss. I’m divorced. All I got now is my son.” Eva said and attached herself to his son’s arm._

_“May I come in?” The unknown voice continued._

_“How silly of me, of course. Come in young man.”_

_When the so-called private investigator stepped in, Ian’s heart might have skipped a beat. He was young, raven hair, pale skin and round plump lips. He had on a worn out black suit and a tie that didn’t quite go with the rest of the outfit. Quite was an understatement, the tie had freaking giant skull on it wearing a top hat. A bit childish. He was rough around the edges, but for some odd reason Ian found that extremely provoking, in a good way._

_Ian was plain mesmerized when those beautiful shiny blue eyes turned to him._

_“Who’s he?” He nodded towards Ian._

_“He’s detec—“_

_“Detective Ian Gallagher from the 4 th precinct, I’m assigned to this case.” Ian extended his arm towards the young man._

_“Mickey Milkovich, private investigator.” He grabbed Ian’s hand and shook it briefly, eyes fixed on Ian’s. Ian could swear he saw a hint of arousal in those eyes, but that doesn’t mean anything. He might not be gay._

_“So…” Ian said, letting go of Mickey’s hand. “It’s getting bit crowded in here, Tom, is it alright if you swing by the precinct later today?”_

_“Yeah.” Tom nodded._

_“Well, later then. Goodbye.” Ian said, stealing one final look of Mickey Milkovich._

_“I’ll definitely be seeing you around Gallagher.” Mickey said, waving Ian bye._

 

* * *

_It was only four days later when Ian got to see Mickey Milkovich again. Ian was finishing up some paper work hunched over his desk, eyes cast down on the papers._

_“Hey gingerbreadman.” Familiar voice said._

_Ian looked up and saw Mickey._

_“Um, Mickey right?” Like Ian didn’t remember his name, he had only spend the past three days dreaming about the guy._

_“How did someone with such a lousy memory made a detective? Yes, it’s Mickey numbnut.” Mickey snorted._

_“But I remembered it correctly?”_

_“Yeah, but you paused.”_

_Okay this definitely wasn’t the same polite young man he’d met at the victim’s house, this guy, this Mickey seemed like a douche._

_“What brings you here?” Ian asked._

_“Thought let you know I solved your case.”_

_“Huh? The B &E thing?” Ian asked._

_“Yes, that one.” Mickey smiled smugly and dropped a file on Ian’s desk._

_“There’s the evidence. Never got robbed in the first place, insurance fraud, he needed the money to get away from his mom, and I don’t blame him. Poor bastard. Mean you saw the mom right? What a clingy old fuck.” Mickey laughed._

_Scratch that, he’s an A-class-douche. When Ian didn’t respond anything, Mickey got huffy._

_“You’re fucking welcome.” He grinned. “Wonder how you guys get anything done around here, if a simple case like that takes you this long.”_

_That was it, no way was Ian sacrificing anymore of his thoughts for this douchebag. He wasn’t stupid, he had lot of other cases to work on as well. He worked as fast as he could, and by the book._

_“Thank you.” Ian faked a polite smile._

_“I suggest you go arrest him before he flees.”_

_“No need to tell me how to do my job.” Ian said, boiling with rage._

_“Just a thought, you know since you seem to be quite slow.” Mickey smirked._

_“That’s it, could you be more of a douche?”_

_“What? I’m just being honest here.” Mickey shrugged._

_“Jesus fucking Christ. I’m going to leave now.”_

_“You should do that.”_

_Ian stood up, grabbed his coat and walked towards the door._

_“Nice ass by the way.”_

_“Excuse me?” Ian turned to look at Mickey._

_“I’d tap that.” Mickey laughed._

_“In your dreams.” Ian shot back and left the precinct. No way was he gonna let that asshole under his skin._

 

* * *

 

“Gotta ask, why’d you hire a P.I?” Ian looked at Marcus.

“Cos I’m brilliant.” Mickey smirked.

“No offence, but you guys weren’t getting anywhere, I took you two weeks to get all of the results back.” Marcus said.

Fucking Christ. Ian was ready to murder every screenwriter in the show business. All the procedural cop shows on tv, geez.

“This isn’t an episode of C.S.I, they take time in the real world. This case isn’t the only ongoing murder investigation in the area, so everybody’s busy.” Ian forced his face neutral.

“So about those questions.” Ian said looking at Marcus. “You play golf yes?” Ian said pointing at the picture of Marcus posing next to a golf club.

“Yes I do play a little. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I was just wondering was there a chance that some of the clubs could be made out of bronze?”

“It’s unusual, but I guess it’s possible.” Marcus answered him.

“And how abo—“ Ian began to ask, but his phone rang. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” Ian stood up and walked a little bit further away from Marcus and Mickey.

“Detective Gallagher.” Ian answered the call.

Ian almost froze when he heard the other man over the phone.

“Okay, got it. I’ll be over there in ten.” He hung up.

“What was that about? Was it related to my wife’s case?” Marcus asked.

“Actually yes.” Ian swallowed. “There’s been another murder. A rich housewife.” Ian said voice shakily, trying to ignore Mickey’s ‘I told you so’ eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised a longer chap, but I've been feeling a bit blue lately and all the sappy fics I've written recently didn't help as much as I hoped, but fuck it yeah?  
> I live for criticism, so leave me some, pretty please? and obvious plothole is obvious plothole, let's not cling onto those. Okay bye, lots of luv.

Ian took a couple running steps so he’d reach to his car, and dug up pack of smokes in the glove compartment. He knew he didn’t have time for it, but fuck did he need it.

As he was lighting his smoke up he heard a low narrative like voice behind him.

“And the gloomy red haired detective smoked his cigarette, dwelling on his thoughts. That he’d been completely wrong all along. They were hunting down a serial killer, a dark character was killing rich housewife’s and the detective had no idea how to connect the two murders and was there going to be more… and the detec—“

“Mickey shut the fuck up.” Ian clammily sneered.

“Just having some fun.” Mickey smiled beside him. “You seem a bit tense love, lemme help you.”

Mickey placed his hands on Ian’s shoulders and started massaging in slow circular moves. And Ian would be lying if he’d say that it didn’t make him ease a bit. He’d been so tense lately with the case and well practically everything, frustrated to the point that he’d started smoking again. For a second he let himself relax at Mickey’s touch, shutting his eyes and inhaling poisonous smoke.

“So… How about you let me tag along?” Mickey whispered into his ear.

He fucking knew it, no way was Mickey “Raven” Milkovich being nice to him without an end game. Ian teared himself away, pushing Mickey further.

“You are some piece of ass, you know that?” Ian huffed smoke into Mickey’s face.

Mickey snatch the cig from Ian and took a lung full of smoke.

“An excellent piece of ass.” He said, giving a sharp slap onto his own ass.

“I don’t have time for this.” Ian said and opened the car door, but before he could say or do anything, Mickey was already sitting in the car.

“Like it or not I’m coming with.”

Ian rolled his eyes, he sighed and pushed back his own murderous thoughts about gutting Mickey like a fish and dumping his body on a construction site.

“One word Mickey and I swear to god.”

“Swear to me.”

“No fucking Batman quotes, no quips, no innuendos, no nothing.” Ian warned Mickey and started the car.

“Want me to book a doctor’s appointment for you? Get that stick surgically removed.”

“Mickey, last warning. I have a gun and the knowledge to hide a body.”

That seemed to shut Mickey up. One of these days, Ian was either going to give in or he’d really have to murder Mickey.

 

* * *

 

Kevin was already at the murder scene hovering over the victim when Ian strolled in with Mickey at his heel.

“You’re late man.” Kev said, looking over Ian’s shoulder. “What’s he doing here?” He looked straight at the smirking Mickey.

“Don’t mind him and do not, I repeat do not give him any ammunition. Ignore him.”

“Will do partner, as long you two keep it professional.”

Ian gave his partner the ‘what’s that supposed to mean’- eyes and hunched to look at the body. “Same M.O?”

“Yeah, estimated time of dead around midnight, same as the last one.”

“So we are provisionally treating this as a serial case?”

“Guess so.”

“Isn’t this exciting?” Mickey said, hunching down next to the detectives and wrapped his arms around them, joyes smile on his face.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.” Ian said, hint of disapproval in his voice.

“If it means that I get to prove you wrong, I’m so down for it.”

“You do understand the meaning of provisionally?” Ian grunted.

“I could _provisionally_ show you what’s like to be with a real man.” His hand wandered dangerously low on Ian back.

Kevin had to swallow his chuckle.

“You seriously flirting with me now?” Ian asked Mickey, eyebrow raised.

“Is there a better time?”

Ian got up, yanking Mickey with him. He pushed them further away from all the peeping eyes. “We are going to have a little chat.” He said as he shoved Mickey against his car.

His finger tapping Mickey’s chest. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“The fucking flirting! This is a crime scene for fucks sake!”

Mickey frowned, but then it turned to a smile.

“So basically you’re saying that I get to flirt with you if we ain’t in a crime scene?”

Ian squinted, taken back a little. “No.” He quickly shake his head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Mickey sneered and tugged Ian closer by his tie.

“Don’t fucking say to me you don’t feel this,” His lips ghosting over Ian’s. “Right now you wanna kiss me, so badly. Don’t you?”

Fuck, it’s all Ian has wanted to do the past 8 months. Mickey’s like a magnetic force Ian can’t seem to escape. He’s fucking rude, childish, a total douchebag. Everything Ian secretly wants. Every time he’s near, it takes all the will power in the world for Ian not to tackle Mickey in the ground and pound the shit out of him.

Because Mickey’s toxic, as far Ian is concerned, Alice Cooper wrote the song Poison about Mickey, even though the song was published in the 80’s, but there has got to be reincarnations of Mickey’s through the history. Letting Mickey in would mean his undoing, Ian’s world would come tumbling down and for what? A quick fuck? Ian’s not going to let that happen, not now, not ever.

But this time Ian came perilously close to breaking. Mickey kept staring into his eyes, that fucking smirk eating his face. Ian almost muttered hotly against those venomous lips –yes, but luckily a voice broke his thoughts.

“Detective Gallagher!” Someone shouted. Ian knew that voice, it was his sergeant who had just arrived to the scene.

“Be right there sergeant.” Ian said tearing himself free from Mickey’s grip. He gave Mickey one final glaze and stormed off.

“One of these days Gallagher! I’m gonna wear you down, you wait and see.” He heard Mickey shouting behind him, he shrugged and flipped him off.

Laughing he waved, “Not gonna happen Mr. Milkovich.”

Fuck he had been close.

 

* * *

 

Back at the precinct Ian placed the resent victim’s photo on the board next to Lisa Lambry.

“Okay people, talk to me.” He said a pen in his hand.

“Victim is Irene Johnson, native Sweden, moved to the States about 20 years ago, family money. No seeming connections to Lambry.” Kevin said beside him.

“Coroner said the murder weapon was the same, and the time of death was at midnight” Kevin continued and Ian wrote it on the board. “But we don’t know more before the report’s finished.”

“Else? How about the canvas? Neighbors heard anything, saw anything?”

“Nothing.” Some uniformed officer said.

“Victims husband said anything? His alibi checks out?”

“Yes sir, all clear.”

“And psych profile?”

“Extreme violence indicates someone with an anger towards women, and the face bashing suggests that the person has prepressed anger issues so we are most likely looking for a male. And the targets being high-class, so likely someone who has something against rich people, might be someone from the lower class, the killer probably has mother issues, since almost every serial killer has. All thought the provisionally report on Irene showed some hesitating on the first blows which Lisa Lambry didn’t have.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Okay, that was half-guessing, but psychology almost always is… But someone should check recently released violent prisoners and look up local anger management classes. Detective Ball, can you handle it?”

“Yes, no problem.” Kevin said.

“May I say something?” Mickey asked raising his hand like a schoolboy.

How the fuck had Mickey managed to weasel his way in the case was beyond Ian. Let alone that the sergeant had let him stay on the briefing, that fucker had to have promised the sergeant something for this privilege. Mickey might be bound to the case by a client, but that didn’t change anything. 

“Mr. Milkovich,” Ian started, “This isn’t a classroom, but what would you know about that, you didn’t even finish high school.” Ian scorned and the whole precinct chuckled, well all but the sergeant, who gave Ian an angry look, and sheepishly Ian looked away.

“You may speak.” Ian sighed.

“Since all you guy’s missed the obvious,” Mickey started, but Ian cut him off.

“And what would that be?”

“Shouldn’t we be looking for the murder weapon?” He asked brows high.

Fucks sake, Ian had forgotten his idea about the golf club, he needs to confirm it with the coroner.

“Sir,” Ian turned to his sergeant. “I have an idea about that, but I need to verify it.”

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for then detective? Get to it. Dismissed,” His sergeant said.

One phone call later Ian had learned that a golf club could have made the damage to the victims, but all clubs are different and this one particularly since it would have been made out of bronze. So they didn’t have anything to compare it with. They needed to find the specific club in order to verify it.

Ian approached his sergeant with the information and requested to go around asking local golf places if they knew about a bronze club.

“That’s an excellent idea, why won’t you take Milkovich with you?”

Ian’s jaw dropped a little.

“With all due respect sir, he’s not an officer, besides isn’t it a conflict of interest since he works for one of the suspects Marcus Lambry?”

“As for now on Marcus Lambry isn’t a suspect anymore.”

“But sir…”

“You can consider it as punishment for that quirky comment of yours.” The sergeant said.

“Yes sir.” Ian said and turned away, mouthing ‘fuck’.

Ian could see Mickey grinning at him.

“All right fucker, you’re coming with me,” he said face forced to relax.

“Oh, we going out for a date? Friday and all,” Mickey laughed at him.

“Shut up Raven.” Ian hissed at Mickey.

“Someday you’re gonna tell me the story behind that nickname.” Mickey said and grabbed his coat.

Friday… Ian wasn’t keen on leaving the building, because that meant bumping into Janet, the receptionist, and Ian wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight. Ian had hard time deciding which was worse; Mickey constantly flirting with him or Janet constantly asking him out. Either way his evening was fucked, royally fucked.

In the lobby he tried to hide behind Mickey, which was impossible since the man was so fucking short or Ian was so fucking lanky. However Janet noticed him immediately.

“Hey Ian!” She chirped joyfully. “Going home?” She added.

Ian ducked his head back up, “No, still on the clock.”

“So when you’re off duty?” She smiled at Ian.

“Hard to say, might be late.”

Janet blushed a little before she said, “So no hope for drinks tonight?”

Ian could hear Mickey hissing beside him, so he glanced between Mickey and Janet, Mickey giving her intense die bitch die- eyes. If Ian didn’t know any better, he’d say Mickey’s jealous.

“Apparently no,” Ian said, but did it stop Janet? No fucking way.

She stepped away from her station and moved closer to Ian, who was extremely anxious to get the fuck out of there. She placed her hand on Ian’s small of the back.

“How about tomorrow?” She said with seductive voice.

If spontaneous combustion was possible that’s what Mickey would have done, by the looks of him. His hands turned into fists and his breathe hitched. Eyes narrow, he leered Janet as he was about to eat her alive, and not in a sexual way. Mickey took a step forward, but he was stopped by Ian.

“Mickey,” Ian warned, but that didn’t stop, quite the opposite, it made Mickey more furious.

“Look you little bitch,” He sneered, “Ian’s mine.”

Wow, hold your horses, did Mickey actually say that? Not that Ian wasn’t a little bit flattered, but he wasn’t a fucking toy, he wasn’t someone property. He wasn’t Mickey’s plaything nor was he going to be Janet’s conquest. Fuck them both.

“You both need to back off!” Ian yelled when he finally had enough. “Just stop it for fucks sake, I ain’t sleeping with either of you. So just fuck off and leave me be? Think you can manage to do that?”

Both of them fell into silence, Mickey more embarrassed than Janet. Both too stunned to say anything, Janet might have tried mumbling apologies. Ian just rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fuckers,” He said. “Come on Mickey, we have work.”

 

* * *

 

The ride to the first golf place on their list was silent. Not a word was exchanged between them. When they got to the location Ian turned to Mickey.

“You let me handle the talking alright?”

“Whatever you say.”

The building in front of them oozed off all kind of pious shit, and neither of the men didn’t like it, not one bit. But they had work to do, so they headed in. The clerk behind the counter looked like one of the Jonas Brother and Hercule Poirot had a kid. The mustache… Christ.

“Hey,” Ian said and flashed his badge. “I’m detective Gallagher with the Chicago Police Department and I would like to ask you couple of questions.” He said, and Mickey let out a loud cough.

“Oh, and this is Mr. Milkovich,” He said pointing at Mickey.

“Welcome gentlemen, I’m Nick, and I would be happy to assist you in any way.”

“Good,” Ian said.

“Is this about Lisa Lambry?” Nick piped.

“As a matter of fact, yes. How do you know about that?” Ian asked.

“Well her husband is a member here.” Nick answered and Ian shot Mickey a glare. Brows high- ‘see I told you he was involved’- And Mickey just shook his head.

“Erm, could you please tell me if you know about any bronze golf clubs? Does someone make those or give them or something?” Ian got to ask, but apparently Nick’s manager appeared, shoving the kid away.

“Hey, I’m the manager here, Pete Blower. Anything I can help you gentlemen?”

“Detective Gallagher, Chicago P.D, got a question about bronze golf club?”

“Never heard of one.” Pete said, grinding his teeth.

“You sure about that? Might wanna think again.” Mickey snarled and Ian poked him, hushing him.

“No sir, haven’t heard of any bronze clubs.” Pete repeated.

“Mind if we stroll around for a bit?”

“Not without a warrant you’re not.” Pete answered.

“Well you were most helpful, could you please point us to the direction of the next golf club, please?”

Pete told them about the nearest place and Ian thanked him again, and turned to leave, dragging Mickey with him.

“Are you crazy? Fucker was laying his nuts off!” Mickey whispered.

“I know, but he don’t have a warrant and there’s a protocol, so we can’t do anything at the moment.” Ian tried to explain, but Mickey wasn’t having any of it. He slipped to the lounge area when either Nick or Pete was looking.

“Mickey!” Ian hissed, but it was for vain, Mickey had already gone there.

“I’m gonna get into so much trouble, but here we go.” Ian mumbled to himself and followed Mickey. Ian just hoped to god that the place didn’t have any recording cameras.

 

* * *

 

“Mickey! Where the fuck did you go?” Ian whispered, avoiding any people on the building.

Ian felt a hand on his shoulder as he was yanked around the corridor. Ian almost made a sound, but Mickey hushed him.

“Look I found something.”

“Even if you did, it’s not going to be any use since we are not allowed to be here. Now let’s go.” Ian said, looking Mickey with anger.

“Just fucking look,” Mickey said, taking Ian by his head and turned him to face the wall in front of him. It was a showcase filled with framed pictures and trophies.

“See anything familiar?” Mickey asked him.

Ian looked at the showcase with care, eyes bouncing around it, until they fixed on one particular photo.

“That’s Marcus Lambry,” He said and pointed on of the men in the picture.

“And what’s he holding?” Mickey continued.

Ian eyes widen when he saw what Lambry was holding.

“That looks like awfully like a club made of bronze,” He smiled.

“You don’t say.” Mickey chuckled, not so disappointed as he should be, since this piece of information incriminated his client even more.

They heard footsteps, they sent Ian into a slight panic mode. Steps got closer and closer. Ian glanced at Mickey. But it was too late, the person, a guard above all had already seen them and turned to their direction. Ian looked at Mickey and gulped, because he knew exactly what Mickey was about to do. Mickey took Ian by the collar tugging him closer and mashed their lips together.

Ian was too shocked to react, face deadpanned, eyes open. Mickey squinted his eyes and grunted into the kiss, hinting Ian to get the fuck on with the program and kiss the fuck back. Like now.

Fuck, this is really happening. Ian closed his eyes and let the emotion carry him away. Fuck, Mickey’s lips were just as soft as he had imagined. Mickey teasingly licked across Ian’s lips, making Ian open his mouth. Mickey smiled against the kiss, viciously, like he’d just won the Stanley cup or something.

“Fucking faggots.” Ian could hear the guard say.

Mickey bit his lower lip, forcing a moan out of Ian. Fuck, he’s good. It was all as bad as Ian thought it would be, Mickey lips were so addictive, so fucking, in a lack of better word – tasty. And Ian was so gone, gone beyond point of return. Legs turning to jelly when Mickey eased his tongue in, gracing Ian’s inner mouth.

Fuck, Ian moaned into the kiss, losing all control, he shoved Mickey against the wall, hands cupping his face, knee finding its way to between Mickey’s legs. Mickey’s low chuckle returned Ian back to planet earth. He quickly pushed himself away from Mickey, catching his breath. Fuck had just happened?

Mickey just laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ve always wondered if that’d work, I mean, isn’t it funny? They guy already saw us, so what’s little kissing going to stop him now? Always works in the movies, ha,” He giggled. “Never been so happy about homophobic bastards before.”

Ian was still mindfucked, he just stood there, wanting to kill Mickey and fuck his brains out. Well not in that order, necrophilia and all. But fuck he was confused and mad.

“What’ the matter, it was just a little kiss? Afraid of germes?”

“Fuck you! There was a million other ways we could have handled that,” Ian suddenly found his voice again.

“But any of them wasn’t so delicious.” Mickey smirked.

“I’m going to murder you.” Ian snarled.

“Oh shut up, you loved it.”

Ian might have felt a lot of things during the kiss, but Mickey was never going to find out about any of them.

“Come on detective amazing-lips, we need to bail.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't know jack shit abt policework  
> Yesyes, I'm THE BIGGEST tease in the world, it's my royal title, besides the glorious swear queen.   
> And fuck, I'm out, peace.


	4. You will always remember this as the day you almost had sex with Ian Gallagher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did with the chap title there? Lol, I'm so juvenile.  
> So ain't that long, or good. I'm kinda mad at this chapter, but oh what the hell. fuck it.  
> Mostly dialog.

What the fuck just happened? Firstly he’d just broken standard police protocol, and for what? To prove Mickey he wasn’t a wimp? Or was it to safe Mickey from trouble? What even? Seriously fuck! And the second thing, the kiss… Ian could still taste it and get nauseous over the fact how fucking good it’d felt. Fuckload of fucks. He needed to get out of there and fast. Before he’d do something _really_ stupid. Fuck, marry, kill—and all options were Mickey. And he wanted to do all of them, choice optional, run and hide.

Not even without glancing at Mickey they got back in the car and Ian started driving.

“Where are we going?” Mickey broke the silence.

“Back to the precinct,” Ian dully responded.

“Okay,” And they fell into the silence again.

After driving few blocks Mickey couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look at the size of that elephant,” He laughed.

“What?” Ian almost snarled.

Mickey sighed and shook his head. “The saying, elephant in the room, and ours seems quite big.”

“We don’t have an elephant,” Ian grinned his teeth.

“Yes we do,” Mickey said, turning to watch Ian.

“No we don’t,” Ian childishly argued back.

“So… We don’t need to talk about that kiss?”

“It wasn’t a _kiss_ , it was a cover,” Ian said.

“Says the man whose knees went weak,” Mickey smirked.

Fucking hell, Ian had hoped that Mickey wouldn’t have noticed it, but of course the fucker had. Obviously. To be honest Ian was growing a bit tired of this, this game or dance or what the fuck ever—they had going on. But the other part of him wasn’t ready to let go of the power he seemed to have over Mickey. The raven would always come running to him, he knew that or hoped at least.

“Just your imagination man,” Ian responded with avoiding tone.

“If you say so, but know that I know, that I know that you know, I _know_.”

“That’s the stupidest sentence you’ve ever said,” Ian chuckled.

“But made you laugh though,” Mickey said, smiling.

Ian stole a glimpse of Mickey, and was he fucked.

 

* * *

 

It might be the stupidest decision Ian has ever made, but he needs to clarify it. Because he’ll be in so much deeper shit if the Sergeant finds out in some other way. Besides Ian was a goodie-two-shoes, he couldn’t brake rules and regulations, and get a good night sleep.

It was late when they got back to the precinct, Ian just hoped that the Sergeant was still there. The light was still on and Ian knocked on the door. He glanced back at his desk where the raven was obviously building a nest for himself and Ian flinched.

“Come in,” He heard his sergeant’s voice command.

Ian peeked his head in.

“Have a second?” Ian asked.

“Detective Gallagher, shouldn’t you be working?”

“I was, but something came up,” Ian started.

“Close the door.”

So Ian told him what had happened at the golf place. How the manager had blown them off, telling them to get a warrant, how Mickey had crossed the line and went in anyway, how Mickey had spotted the picture. The incriminating picture of Marcus Lambry holding the bronze gold club that could be the murder weapon they were looking for. He told everything, but the kiss, because not for nothing, it wasn’t any of the sergeants business.

“So we need to get that search warrant somehow,” Ian breathed since he hadn’t really inhaled during his ramble.

“No.” The sergeant said firmly.

“What? I mean, I know I did something that I shouldn’t have done in the first place, but Sir –”

“Give me your badge and gun,” Came the order behind the desk.

“What the fuck?” Ian didn’t mean to swear to a higher ranking officer, but it slipped. “You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will.”

“But Sir, it was a minor mistake and Mickey—“

“Leave Mr. Milkovich out of this,” The sergeant said.

“Why would I do that? It was his fault to begin with and YOU ordered to take him along!” Ian could feel rage raising inside himself.

“Why was he allowed to tag along anyway? He’s just a P.I for Christ’s sake!”

“Mr. Milkovich and I have our arrangements, no need to worry about those.”

“But it’s my fucking case!” Ian roared.

“Not anymore detective, badge and gun. You are suspended for two weeks and you are not allowed to work this case anymore,” The sergeant said.

“I’m complaining to the Captain about this!” Ian huffed.

“I’m your sergeant, and your boss, so I decide who works and what cases,” The Serg simply said.

Ian slammed his gun and badge to the desk and left the office and shut the door close with force. He walked to his desk, luckily almost everybody else had gone home. So no one, but Mickey was there to see his outburst.

Ian knocked over the so called murder-board which had all the information about the cases, causing Mickey to jump.

“What’s gotten into you!?” Mickey asked.

“I got fucking laid off the case, that’s what!” Ian yelled, grabbing his coat and started walking towards the door.

“Hold on a minute,” Mickey said, running to catch Ian. He tugged Ian back by his arm.

“Get your hand off me!” Ian yelled, trying to yank himself free.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Mickey said calmly.

“Got laid off, end of story,” Ian huffed out, finally freeing himself from Mickey’s grip.

“Hope you and the sergeant have a good fucking time, since you’re so buddy-buddy with him!” Ian said and stormed off, but he caught Mickey’s last words, almost as Mickey was mumbling them.

“I did it for you…”

Did what for him? But Ian was too mad to dwell on that thought. He needed a fucking drink or the fucking bottle.

 

* * *

 

Ian was nursing down his fifth drink, bitching about his sergeant to the bartender, who was only half listening.

“Another,” Ian said, waving the shot glass. The corner of his eye catch that someone sat next to him.

“I think you’ve had enough,” The voice next to him said.

All Ian saw was a blur, he blinked few times to get his eyes straight and saw Mickey fucking Milkovich sitting next to him.

“Stalking me now?” Ian laughed, grabbing the tequila bottle behind the counter and poured himself another glass. “You ain’t my fucking keeper.”

“No I’m not, but doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you,” Mickey said, getting himself a shot also.

They both drowned down their shots.

“How did you know I was here anyway?” Ian asked.

“Asked Kevin about it,” Mickey shrugged.

Ian laughed. “Should have known it, fucking Kevin. Why are you here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Mickey said, gulping.

“So talk then,” Ian started slurring a bit.

“About the sergeant—“ Ian flinched at that. “So I promised him a date if he’d let me work the case with you…” Mickey explained embarrassed.

A fucking date! Ian thought. A hiccup. His sergeant and Mickey on a date. Fucking date, going out… Kissing, like Mickey had kissed him, fucking Mickey, like he wanted to fuck Mickey…

“So how was it?! The date? Did you guys have sex?” The words just flew from Ian’s mouth, words he didn’t mean anyone to hear.

“No, we haven’t even had that date yet.” Mickey said, glancing down. “Did it for you, you know? To get close to you, to be close to you.”

“And you fucking think that going out with someone else is going to get me into your good books? Huh?”

“I didn’t fucking think alright!” Mickey said slamming down his glass. “I just fucking want you! I fucking—“ Mickey said. “I want you to be mine.”

Ian didn’t even bother to pour the tequila in a glass anymore, he just drank straight off the bottle.

“You want me huh?” He laughed and leaned in closer. “You know what? I’ve fucking wanted you since the day I saw you.”

His lips hovering over Mickey, so close he could smell the smokes on Mickey’s breathe.

“Then why you always brush me off?” Mickey said, parting his lips.

“I don’t know, you’re fucking toxic,” Ian said, licking his lips.

“Say you wanna get out of here?” Mickey whispered.

“Yeah,” Ian breathed heavy.

Mickey hopped off the stool, taking Ian with him, throwing some bills on the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

Next morning Ian woke up with a terrible hammer, his head pounded like motherfucker. Eyes heavy, he eased himself to sitting position. He glanced around the room, definitely wasn’t his place. He checked under the cover, he had only boxers on. He felt fucking sick. The mattress sank when he saw Mickey sitting down next to him. Oh fucking god. Rubbing his face Ian turned to Mickey.

“We didn’t you know… Have sex?” 

Mickey chuckled and handed him a glass of water. He had been so fucking close last night, he’d gotten Ian to his place, they were almost about to kiss when Ian decided to puke his guts out. And Mickey might be a lot of things, but ‘that guy’ isn’t one of them.

“No… All though I could have, you were out of it, passed out on my bed. Don’t worry, I was a gentleman and slept on the sofa.”

“Thanks I guess, “ Ian said embarrassed, taking the water glass from Mickey. “Sorry about last night.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been clockbl—“ He cut himself out. “So how much you remember about last night?”

Ian tried to remember, but came out blank. Bits and pieces here and there. Glimpses really.

“Not much, got laid off the case.”

Mickey sighed, annoyed. All of last night, a fucking waste.

“So why did you got laid off?”

“I told the sergeant about the golf place insistent and poof, he just told me to hand in my badge and gun.”

“Doesn’t that sound a bit fishy to you? Sure you might have brake some rules, due to yourstruly,” Mickey said pointing at himself, “But still, should you get laid off because of those?”

Ian tried to but his hammering head aside and think about it. No it really didn’t make any sense at all. Why was the sergeant so eager to get him off the case right after when he’d would actual evidence?

“Now that you say it, it’s weird.”

“Worth investigating, ain’t it?” Mickey said.

“But I’m laid off, I can’t go anywhere near the case.” Ian sighed.

“But I’m not,” Mickey said playfully raising his brows. “I can do what the fuck I want.”

“You would to that? Seriously?”

Mickey shook his head. “No man, we’re going to do it.” He smiled.

“But what about the bet? I mean the me vs. you think?” Ian said, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“This has gotta be much more than just a simply murder as it began as. So much more darling.” Mickey smirked.

Darling? Ian turned his nose. Sure he felt a bit closer to Mickey, trusted the man even. After all he had taken care of his drunken ass.

“Mickey?” Ian asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did something else happen last night? Besides the not-sex stuff?”

Mickey duck his head, hiding his blush.

“That’s not important right now. We need to figure this shit out. Get you back on the force.”

“Mickey…” Ian whined.

Mickey sighed. “Okay, so you were like drunk as a skunk and I said that I agreed to go out on a date with your boss to get close to you, about how I wanted you to be mine and you said something about wanting me…Like you were jealous or something and then we got out of the bar and came here, and almost had sex… and that’s it.”

Ian listened horrified Mickey’s rambling. God he’d really said all those things? He was never drinking again. Now Mickey knew almost everything, about his desires towards him. Hell Mickey might have known about them all along, but saying to him out loud was another thing. He’d confirmed everything. Fucking hell.

“So are you?” Ian whispered, because it gnarled him. “Going out on a date?”

“I just fucking admitted that I fucking like you, and that’s what you got out of it?” Mickey asked stunned.

“You never said that you liked me.” Ian said voice deadpan, like he wasn’t believing it.

“Well I do, fucking like you,” Mickey said, blushing up to his ears.

Ian broke down laughing.

“You tease and flirt with me for 8 mouths, and act generally like an asshole towards me, and now you say you like me?”

“Stop laughing at me!” Mickey spat at him. “I don’t do ‘feelings’.”

“Apparently you do,” Ian chuckled.

“Does that mean you’ll go out with me?” Mickey asked.

“It means that I’ll consider it.”

“Now who’s a fucking tease?” Mickey smirked.

“Shut up, let’s get some food before I die.”

“Then we go over the case, right partner?”

“Right, _partner_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to get the hang of Tumbler (finally) Come talk to me, I'm under the same name, Renmiriffx <3  
> Fuck, I'm out, peace


	5. Black coffee, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry. I wish the long wait was worth it, but it ain't, the chap ain't longer than usual. But it's something right? As some of you may know, I'm not exactly well right now and it's affected this fic more than it should, and I'm so sorry. But enough about that. Thank you for sticking with me, I appreciate it<3 And happy valentine's day, hope you guys had/have a wonderful time. I'd hug every last one of you if I could. *Virtual hug, I'm squeezing you so hard* <3 *smooch*

As soon as Ian felt like standing up without throwing up, the pair of detectives, the other more real (When the law enforcement is concerned, even if he didn’t have his badge on him right now), went to a nearby breakfast diner.

Ian felt and looked really bad, he was overall pale, freckles faint on his face, like they were running away from the terrible hungover. And more annoying was that the waitress seemed to avoid them on purpose, because every time Ian tried to wave her over, she didn’t notice him. Either she’s a really shitty waitress or she just doesn’t like Ian, and usually he’s the people person, even though a little bit grumpy sometimes, but it comes with the job. He used to be such a cheerful goofy ball when he was little. And what was he now? A fucking loser, without a case, without a badge, without fucking nothing…

“What the fuck I got to do to get some service here!” Ian raised his raspy voice, caused by the alcohol.

“Manners would be a great start,” Mickey pointed out.

“Really? You’re lecturing me about manners?”

“What? I can be nice,” Mickey argued.

“You prince charming now?”

“Fuck you,” Mickey hissed back, “Just watch.”

Mickey put on his pleasant smile, which looked way too real to be fake. Even his eyes seemed to lit up. Ian had to tilt his head and arch up a brow because of this sudden change, he’d yet to see Mickey like this. Who the fuck was this person he was sitting with? It definitely wasn’t the “Raven” Ian was used to dealing with. He was something else.

Mickey glanced at the waitress and she noticed him right away and walked over, taking her notepad out.

“Hey Mickey,” She smiled, “What can I get you?”

Mickey? Ian thought, she knew him? Ian felt his lip twitching up, but forced his face blunt. Mickey must come here all the time, it’s close to his place. Yeah, that’s why Mickey knows her.

“Hey,” Mickey’s voice was higher than usual. “Two black coffee’s and a water,” He briefly looked at the menu. “And two times the breakfast special, thank you.”

“Coming right up,” The waitress said and went to place the order.

As soon as she was gone, Mickey’s face dropped back to its usual frown-like demeanor.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ian stared Mickey.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me Gallagher,” He raised his eyebrows.

“Apparently,” Ian sighed.

 Now he was beyond curious, who was Mickey? What was he really like? Besides the ex-criminal. Bit of information Ian had leaned after his first encounter with Mickey. Purely out of curiosity Ian had looked up his record, couple of B&E’s and assault. And sealed juvie records, which Ian didn’t have access to and now it bugged him, what was on those files? He could just ask Mickey, but it seemed too personal.

But Ian didn’t have time to dwell on that now. Ian’s plate is of full of shit. Seeing the shit that comes with living, for real, does take its toll. Imagine seeing violence for a living, dismembered bodies, hacked into pieces. Once happy couples murdering each other over spilled milk. People robbing others blind, killing for a few bucks.

You’re bound to turn into something else, it’s the only way to coupe. Kevin, Ian’s partner, turned it down with the thoughts of family, that way he was always happy, thinking about happy things. But for Ian, it wasn’t that simple, especially now with the case going sideways, no leads that he could follow up, no badge. And one asshole named Mickey Milkovich, who was going on a date, with his boss… Which shouldn’t bother Ian at all, but it does, it really fucking does.

“Ay, you all right?” Mickey asked, yanking Ian away from his momentary self pity.

He shrugged, letting his eyes fall on Mickey. “I’m good, just the headache, that’s all.” He said, rubbing his head for effect. “So about the case, what we know so far?”

“Well, I ain’t got that much, Marcus Lambry has an air tight alibi, or it seems. I really don’t know that much, since some unnamed fucker didn’t show me the damn casefiles.” Mickey snorted.

“Fuck off, I was just protecting my case,” Ian responded, “And how hell you don’t have anything? You work for the guy right? You gotta know something?”

“I’ve been busy,” Mickey shrugged.

“Yeah, with what?”

“Trying to woo you, fuckface.” Mickey said without a heartbeat.

Ian was awestruck by Mickey’s bluntness. At least it was something he appreciated.

“Oh yeah? You call fucking with me, being a general asshole, teasing me, disrespecting me, promising a da—,” Ian swallowed the rest of his sentence, because Mickey didn’t need to know that the whole date thing actually bothered him.

“It’s what I am, and here I was thinking that honesty was the best way to go.” Mickey grinned. “Oh that’s what this is about, the whole date-with-your-boss-thing? Someone being jealous?” He teased and before Ian could speak or think for that matter, Mickey continued, “And besides, ain’t it good thing now? If he has the hots for me, it will be easier to get him talk about the case and more importantly why he kicked you out the case, huh?”

Ian was saved by the bell, just as he was about to mumble something about being not jealous and shit, the waitress came bringing their food.

“Here you go,” She said, placing the plates on the table along with the drinks.

“Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thank you,” Mickey smiled.

The distraction gave Ian sometime to process things, luckily. Now that he thought about it, Mickey did have a point. Doesn’t mean has to like the idea of Mickey being on a date with someone else, but as it is, Mickey is doing it from him. The original idea behind the date might be fucked up, but now it’s something they can use. Assuming Ian’s sergeant doesn’t get wind of Ian and Mickey working as a team now.

So Ian nodded, munching on his lip. “And with you working for the suspect, it couldn’t be any better, we got the upper hand here.”

Ian took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the warm liquid on his throat.

“And who we got to thank for that?” Mickey said, eyes intensely following Ian who was stuffing his mouth with bacon, a blissful look on his face.

Mickey kicked Ian’s shin under the table, “You fucking listening to me?”

Ian was, he truly was. But he’d do anything to drop the conversation, he tried not to pay any intention to Mickey, but he winced in pain when Mickey kicked him. Not to be an asshole or anything, but in his fucked up way Mickey was being so, in a lack of better term, sweet. Because truthfully, no one has ever done anything or promised to do, something like this for Ian. It’s not every day that a guy is willing to go for so much trouble for you. And it made Ian think about accepting the date invitation from Mickey, after this was over he’d kinda owed it to him?

But thinking about how Mickey is, it probably wouldn’t be something he’d like. For Mickey it would be like a pity date. Even if he’d earned it, but still Ian thought that Mickey would want him to go on a date, because he wants to, not because he feels obligated to. But fuck does he know? As it seemed, Ian doesn’t really know that much about Mickey.

“Sorry, it’s just so good,” Ian nodded towards the food in front of him, “And yeah yeah, it’s thanks to you Raven.” He tried to sound as deadpan as he could. Not to be mean, but fuck it. He wasn’t ready to admit shit to Mickey, the slight crush he had been harboring ever since they met, even Ian himself had tried to bury that crush for so long, but he couldn’t fucking deny it. Not really. Especially not now.

“See? Wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Mickey smirked, somehow sensing that Ian didn’t like the course the conversation was taking, so he dropped it…For now, “Spill the peas then, tell me about the case, the first murder, about Lisa.”

Ian told as much as he remembered by heart. Which was unexpectedly much, but after all he had stared the murder board back at precinct quite some time. He told him that mainly about the autopsy, since Mickey pretty much knew everything else, at least what was relevant through the second murders briefing.

“Hang on a minute there Gallagher, you say she was covered in sweat?”

“Yeah, what about it? The coroner thought nothing of it, she could have been having sex before the attack?”

“But she didn’t have a lover did she? I mean you guys checked that right?”

“Of course we fucking did, there was no other men in her life,” Ian rolled his eyes.

“So why was she sweat then?”

“How should I know?” Ian shot up.

“You’re the real detective here, ain’t it your job? To detect?”

“Fuck off, I can’t know everything, besides it didn’t seem that important.”

“It might be,” Mickey shrugged.

“Well okay then, what do you suggest then? Mr. I’m-so-fucking-awesome.”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked you,” Mickey snarled.

They heard a girlish giggle behind them, both heads turning towards the sound.

“You know, you fight like an old married couple,” A dark haired woman laughed, peeking her head behind the booth.

“Fuck you Mandy! You shouldn’t be eavesdropping like that,” Mickey spat.

“He the guy you told me about?” She sat next to Mickey.

Ian just stared the two pale skinned, hark haired people in front of him, mouth slightly ajar. Her mouth curved the same way that Mickey’s did. Her eyes shine as bright as Mickey’s. She had a waitress outfit on, she must work in the diner Ian thought. They clearly argued something, but Ian didn’t focus on the words being said. He just studied them.

“Gallagher?”

“Earth to Gallagher!” Mickey almost yelled.

“Sorry what?” Ian finally focused back.

“That’s my bitch of a sister,” Mickey nodded towards the woman next to him.

“Mandy,” She said, waving her hand.

“Erm, Ian Gallagher, nice to meet you?”

Mandy smiled wildly at Ian, looking him weirdly.

“So he is the guy,” She turned to her brother.

“Shut up bitch, this is the last time I’m ever telling you anything,” Mickey said.

She just smirked at her brother.

“So it’s like a freezer huh?” She stated.

“I’m sorry what?” Ian asked.

“You know, you make something cool down fast,” She shrugged.

“Still not following you,” Ian said, smiling sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes. “Well if the time of dead was around 10 P.M and the husband found her after midnight right?”

“And how do you know that?” Ian asked, looking at Mickey who shook his head.

“Em, I can read, it’s all over the newspapers.”

“Oh yeah right, continue,” Ian apologized.

“So, if she was covered in sweat, she’d been exercising right? So it would make her body cool down faster, right? Making the rigor mortis happen faster? So maybe she didn’t die at ten, but after it…”

“Holy shit, is that possible?” Mickey amazed.

“I have no idea, I should check the coroner to verify. But if it is, then the husband’s alibi’s busted. Assuming she actually died after 11 P.M that is,” Ian said.

“How the hell would you know something like that?” Mickey turned to his sister.

“I read, dumbfuck.”

If that really was the case, then things certainly didn’t look good for Marcus Lambry.

“But if he really did it, then how about the second murder, same weapon etc and why did he hire you in the first place?” Ian asked Mickey.

“Well isn’t that what we are trying to figure out? And we really should start with your sergeant.”

Ian gritted his teeth at the mention of his sergeant. But fuck it, Mickey was right it had to be done, even if the idea wasn’t appealing to him.

“Make the call then,” Ian sighed. “I’m gonna head home, sleep this off,” He waved his finger around him, implying the general atmosphere of his hungover.

“Call me afterwards, okay?” Ian said to Mickey.

“We’ll do darling, don’t get jealous now, or better yet please do, it makes me feel hot,” Mickey teased, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” He winked.

“For fucks sake.” Ian said, “See ya.”

And with that he left.

“What was that all about?” Mandy asked.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll explain later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still do not know anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Penny for thoughts? ^^


End file.
